


Four Long Weeks

by Highlander_II



Series: kink_bingo: 2011 [57]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, F/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-28
Updated: 2011-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-24 02:49:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Highlander_II/pseuds/Highlander_II
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"But that's a very long time after the already long time."</i>  House has to go to a medical conference – without Cameron – and she's not allowed to touch herself until he gets back.  Part of the <a href="http://heroesque.livejournal.com">heroesque</a> universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Long Weeks

Five shirts, two pairs of jeans, socks, underwear, shaving kit that had no shaving implements but other things and his back-up Vicodin - and one suit - his only suit - packed and ready to go. He looked up from the packing to find Cameron brushing her hair in the doorway to the bathroom. "Where are you going?" he asked her.

"The hospital," she answered. "Have to cover a shift tonight."

His first thought was 'why you?', then considered his position a moment. It had been at least two weeks since they'd had a chance to play properly. The few nights he had gotten home in time, she had been so tired, she'd fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder or in his lap. The one night she was awake enough to play, she hadn't been in much mood for sex (a condition he thought might have meant the end of the world), but he'd figured out she'd been crampy and he'd let her jerk him off while he watched TV. That had been the last orgasm he'd had in the past two weeks.

He tried to remember the last time he'd brought his princess to the edge. As he watched her combing out her hair, he recalled the exact moment - nearly three weeks ago. Two weeks, two days, twelve hours and something in the neighborhood of twenty minutes, but who's counting.

"Princess," he waited until he had her full attention, "I don't want you to have any orgasms while I'm gone." He heard her gasp. "In fact, I don't want you to touch yourself either."

Another gasp, then she complained, "But that's two more weeks, Master."

He stalked forward, loomed over her. "Are you defying me, princess?"

"No, Master," she sighed, disheartened. "But that's a very long time after the already long time." She was pouting now.

He tipped her head up with a finger beneath her chin. "It's a long time for me too. But, think about how hot it will be when I get back," he whispered and brushed his lips chastely over hers.

She tried to engage in a fuller kiss, but he held her away. That only made her pout more. "Master," she almost whined.

"You're gonna be late." He slapped her on the ass, kissed her forehead and told her to be good while he was gone.

* * *

He didn't get as much sleep that night as he would have liked. A direct result of thinking about how wired his princess would be when he got back. Hell, if she was going to be wired, he'd be damned near electric if he kept his hands to himself.

Before he left, he wrote Cameron a note letting her know he would be denying himself too. If the idea didn't get him so hard he was ready to fuck Cameron in the middle of the ER, he wouldn't have considered it.

The flight was where he caught up on his sleep, more at the hotel, but Wilson wouldn't let him skip the opening cocktail party. He suffered through it. 'Spent most of it outside with the smokers.

"What are you doing out here?" Wilson asked when he found him.

House groaned and took a hard drag off his bummed cigarette. "Because I can't go to the bar."

"Let's go, House."

"Already? But I was just starting to have fun." He stubbed out his cigarette, said a passing good-bye to the smokers he'd been chatting with, took up his cane and limped through the party to the lobby. He hated these things. He was only here because Wilson agreed to buy him that expensive bottle of bourbon he'd been eying for three months.

'Turned out the cocktail party was the high point of the two-week medical conference. Cardiology, rheumatology, nephrology, immunology - for some reason, during that panel, he had to leave for the men's room abruptly.

He locked himself in a stall thinking of box scores and the last few bodies he'd seen in the morgue to calm himself down. He was almost there when Wilson yelled for him from the entrance.

"Dammit," he muttered.

"House? What's going on with you?" Wilson asked in that tone he had that made House need to tell him things.

Only this time, when he spoke, he grumbled something like 'haven'thadsexinfourdamnedweeks'. Then he banged his head against the wall.

Wilson was silent for a moment. House could almost hear his brow furrow. "Is there something going on with you and Cameron?"

"No. We're fine."

"So why the lack of contact?"

"Busy schedules," he grunted, annoyed.

* * *

The rest of the conference wasn't much better. More boring lectures, followed by an even more boring dinner. Wilson spent most of the dinner glowering at House's choices of dinner conversation. As soon as politely possible, Wilson had them out of the dining hall.

"Can't you go anywhere and behave?" Wilson grumbled

House stopped abruptly and wheeled on Wilson. "My girlfriend is five-hundred miles away, sleeping naked in my bed and I'm stuck at a boring medical conference with you and two-thousand other stuffy doctors."

"A medical conference that is almost over, House."

"A medical conference I never should have had to go to. I've read all of this stuff. These lectures were boring. I'm only here because Cuddy thinks it's either good for me or the hospital. Neither of which is true."

"How much have you had to drink tonight?"

House grunted and started for the elevator bay. He was sure Wilson interpreted that as 'not nearly enough', but the truth was, he'd had all he wanted. There was something else on his mind.

* * *

"Mmm'ello?" came a tired, muffled voice through the phone.

"Princess," he rumbled. "Whatcha doin'?"

She moaned softly and he could hear her roll over on the bed, sheets rustling beneath her soft, smooth skin. "Trying to sleep, Master. What's wrong?"

He laughed. "Nothing. Have you been masturbating?"

"No," she grunted, clearly annoyed. "You told me not to." He heard her shift again. "My hot, untasted body is aching for you, Master."

That was bad... hot. His naughty little princess was teasing him. "Really, princess?" He rubbed the heel of his hand over his thigh. "No one's touched you?"

A soft little sigh. "No, Master. I'm saving myself all for you."

He grunted something incoherent and nearly crushed the phone in his fingers. "My flight lands at two. I'll be home by three. Be naked on the bed when I get there or there'll be trouble, princess."

"I don't get off work until four, Master," she said cautiously.

"Find a way." He snapped the phone shut, then hobbled to the bathroom for a cold shower. He was still in there when Wilson came up from the dinner.

* * *

"What the hell were you doing in there?" Wilson asked when House finally emerged from the bathroom dressed in his pajamas.

"Nothing," House grunted in reply, toweling at his hair.

Wilson glared at the bathroom, then at House, then back to the bathroom. "Forty-five minutes of nothing?"

"Cold shower," House grumbled as he settled on the bed, back against the faux headboard. He wanted Wilson to go away and let him watch TV and sulk in peace. It wouldn't happen. He knew that. "Out with it, Wilson. What do you want to know?"

"Why you needed a cold shower, for one."

House frowned. "Did you miss the part where my girlfriend is five-hundred miles away and I haven't had sex in four weeks?"

Hands held up before him, palms out, Wilson took a step away from his roommate. "Right. Sorry. But we're leaving tomorrow."

"I would have left a week and a half ago if there wasn't a bottle of really good bourbon on the line."

"And if Cuddy hadn't made you."

House threw the remote control at Wilson. As it clipped the man in the shoulder, House considered how unwise that move had been. He downed two Vicodin and stuffed himself beneath the covers.

"I'm going to sleep. Don't wake me up in the morning or I'll kill you." He switched off the light on his side of the pair above the nightstand, then dropped his arm over his head. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Wilson had apparently taken the threat of man-slaughter from the night before seriously. The television was on at a low hum and the lights were still off, save the little book light attached to the volume in Wilson's hands. The man didn't even move when House rumbled and flopped to his back.

A moment later, a voice said, "Need to get going soon if you want breakfast before we leave."

"What, no room service?"

"That would have resulted in my death," Wilson parried and turned a page.

House rolled his eyes in the half-dark. "Food might have earned you a reprieve."

"Get a shower and it'll be here when you get out." Wilson turned another page. "If you don't take as long as last night."

If Wilson didn't already have control of the remote, House would've thrown it at him again. Instead, he slipped out of his clothes - his pajama pants, shorts and T-shirt - and threw them at Wilson's book.

He didn't wait to get Wilson's reaction, though he did catch a hint of pinched fingers lifting his shorts away from the book. It made his morning a little more 'up'. The shower helped some too.

The flight back to Plainsboro, however, did little to take the edge off his pent-up arousal. By the time he got off the plane, his jeans were so tight he thought they'd cut off circulation. And, for once, he was glad he had a ride from Wilson, because the bike would have been torture for his drive home.

* * *

House stopped just inside his door and took a deep breath, a good lungful of home with just an undertone of sweet, feminine arousal. Good, she was here. Just as he'd asked.

He dropped his bags at the door. Coat too. The rest of his clothes were discarded on the way down the hallway to his bedroom. He was naked by the time he reached the door.

Stretched out on his bed, self-bound, was the pale, naked body of his princess. He was abruptly so hard that it hurt. Leaning on his cane, he closed his eyes to keep his balance.

"Master," Cameron purred and shifted her hips lasciviously on the bed, "I've been waiting for you. Untouched. Clean. Celibate."

At that last word, his head snapped up, eyes, open, staring at her. His gaze traveled from her toes, up her shapely legs, to settle on her glistening pussy, wet with want for him, just as she'd told him. His mouth began to water. The war in his brain left him with an impossible decision - bury his face between her legs and make her scream or bury his cock in her pussy and make her scream.

"Celibate? No one's touched you the whole time I've been gone?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No one at all."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Then how did you get yourself all tied up?"

"Did it myself," she purred proudly.

"Really?"

She nodded slowly. A small sly smile spread across her lips. Yeah, she knew what she was doing.

House tilted his head. "I hope the knots are tight," he rumbled as he stalked to the bed. He didn't bother testing them. He crawled into the bed, grabbed her hips and thrust himself smoothly into her. Buried to the hilt, he stopped, eyes closed and just appreciated the _feel_ of her hot wetness surrounding him. It was the most amazing thing he'd felt in nearly a month.

Cameron's muscles were tight beneath him for a moment. Then he felt her relax, waiting. She felt it too; he knew she did. She'd missed him. 'Missed _this_.

"We're never going four weeks like that ever again," he rumbled, then took a solid grip on her hips and fucked her until they were both screaming.


End file.
